


If It was One or the Other I Would Choose You

by OverMyFreckledBody



Series: JeanMarco Week 2015 [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Cute, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, hes my fave, poetic!jean, writer!Jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean compares Marco to raindrops, despite having work to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It was One or the Other I Would Choose You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFullmidgetAlchemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFullmidgetAlchemist/gifts).



> IM NOT LATE
> 
> JeanMarco Week 2015 Day 6: Summer Loving or Raindrops

Everything about Marco can be reduced to raindrops.

 

Everything.

 

Knowing this, I decided to compile a list, but just after four, it was starting to grow. Too much to be contained by just sticky notes and notebook paper. Despite me telling him how much I loved to compare him to my favorite things, he would not let me “waste” space. Still, I wanted to share. Here are the five I scribbled down, unable to add more because of his embarrassment and constant tremors of, “Jean, you have commissions to do! Stop!” for you all to enjoy as I find somewhere else to hide my ramblings:

 

 _The freckles on his skin_ are like raindrops; they splatter tanned skin like droplets on a pavement. They come from the sky, only from the sun instead of the clouds. They are small and seem to change shape if you twist around to look at them from different angles. They can lead to being part of something larger, a river to a living constellation. The rain keeps me inside to stay dry, his freckles keep me inside to count them, to trace them, to follow their paths. I like his freckles more than I do the rain.

 

 _The tears in his eyes_ are like raindrops sometimes when they roll down his face, much like a window doused in condensation and rainwater. They both twinkle at me, reflecting off light, light that I love to see in his eyes. Both come from things that steal away my attention: clouds and beautiful, endless gemstone orbs. The tears he creates and the rain in the sky can both do wonderful and terrible things: make my heart either sink or fly and give life or destroy it. While his tears can be caused by many things- happiness, sadness, anger- rain is caused by but one. On the days when I see light in Marco’s eyes, I am entranced by his rolling crystal liquid, but when I can’t, I’d much rather watch the rain fall, knowing he is happy.

 

 _The kisses he gives me_ are like raindrops because they both fall continuously. His kisses and rain are alike because they feel cool against my skin. The little pecks and droplets are things I love because they both, without a doubt, calm me down. They are similar because it does not matter what time of the day it is, the time is always perfect for both. Each are the same because they come often here, in varying amounts. I prefer being kissed by him than watching the sky fall.

 

 _The sound of his laughter_ is like a raindrop’s pitter patter as it echos all throughout. They both evoke feelings, melancholy and love. They can both slide a frown right off my face- constant taps relaxing me, but uneven giggles making the corners of my mouth twitch. Both sounds are things that, if heard before bed, will let me rest easy. Both are things that move my heart in different ways; trickling to appreciate that not every good moment must be happy, but snickering to understand that the best are. I love them both, but his laughter is an angel’s blessing.

 

 _The silk touch of his voice_ is like the smoothness of raindrops, sleek and ever flowing. Even as the rain picks up, or his voice gets higher, both faster, they have a sort of drip to them, much like honey, slow and languid in their own way. When he hums, much like a sprinkle, it’s soft and hard to hear, but very mellow. They both are soothing: to listen to their words, how they whisper, in different voices, that they love me, too. His voice encircles me, embraces me, but rain just runs down my arms, through my hair, untouchable. His voice is a song, rain the violin, but I have always found myself one to sing along instead of hum to the beat.

 

Everything about Marco is much like a simple raindrop, but the love we hold for each other. It’s not as simple, it’s complex, grand, and always there, unlike the rain.

  
I love them both, but I would live in a rainless world for thousands of years if it meant Marco was by my side for each and every second.

**Author's Note:**

> unedited so tell me if you find any screw ups in the grammar/spelling/something didnt make sense
> 
> so, uh, tell me if you liked it! even if you think the comment will be too small, ill still be so happy you did, or if its huge, going into the way i wrote it or just how i described something, i would absolutely love to respond to that so dont hold back if you dont want to
> 
> also  
> for the lovely TheFullmidgetAlchemist because i know you like it when i write pretty


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